Alignment of ones self
by CaptainRumbro
Summary: Harry Potter has had enough. His magic awakens early. Post GoF. Mixed pairings. Powerful Harry Grey Harry Warning. Gore and intimate scenes involved.
Chapter 1

(This is my first ever fanfic. Ive set out a very basic plot but would love suggestions as it goes on. If you guys like it I will publish some more chapters happily as quickly as I can)

Pairings will not be slash, sorry slash lovers, but thats just not my style.

Please review and give me ideas and criticism that is constructive, Ill appreciate it all.

I dont want any flames please, as I said Im new to this.

 **Enough.**

Even at 4 o'clock in the morning, the air was still dry, it was a record breaking drought on Privet Drive. There was even a hose pipe ban and only the oldest residents living in Little Whinging could remember the last one ,But it wasn't the heat that woke the raven haired youth from his rest, it was the nightmares.

He had been plagued by them all for his short, more miserable than most other people, life.

They had been occurring from a young age, mainly due to his closest living relatives, the Dursleys. Nightmares of what happened to him when he did something 'freakish' or 'abnormal'. One particular occurrence was the thrashing he got from his bloated Uncle after the incident with the Python at the Zoo. He had had to drag himself using his arms through sheer exhaustion from his beating to his dusty cupboard under the stairs at the young age of 11. All the while being screamed at and berated by his Aunt due to him getting blood on the floor he had earlier had to polish to a high sheen himself. His only bit of luck was that his obese and bloated uncle got exhausted easily due to his, what he called, portly stature.

That particular incident left harry unable to chew very well for a week because of his uncles harry fists crashing into his small jaw. It didnt matter though, he told himself, because he wasnt fed very often back then anyway.

It had happened all his life. Not just physical punishment, but being neglected as a child, told he was a freak and a nobody, breaking his confidence for something he didnt understand, He used to resent himself, believing he really was the freak they said he was. He couldn't explain the things that happened before he knew what he really was and who he really was. But even when he had answers, they were of little help to resolve the memories that haunted him. He was never taught to let go, so he just bottled it up and tried to except it.

Even in school he wasnt treated as a normal child should be, always expected to do what the hero should, even though he was berated by some of the faculty, like Professor Snape. Yet again he didnt know why. He had even ended the life of a man in his first year. Professor Quirrell. Although Quirell was going to die because of Voldemorts possession, he was ended by Harrys own hands, in a fight for Harrys very life. Quirrells blood boiling and burning beneath Harrys hands haunted him for weeks after in his dreams. But he was given only half truths and half the story by people like Dumbledore, expected to just carry on, as if it was normality.

The nightmares he had been in this particular night though were not of fake professors who served the most terrible dark lord in textbook and living memory, Lord Voldemort. Or of his pet Basilisk that Harry had managed to kill in his second year. This nights nightmare had been about Cedric Diggory and the night that particular dark lord, who it seemed was obsessed with trying to kill harry, for reasons harry didn't know, was revived.

Reliving watching a boy you had called friend die, over and over again never got any easier. Then watching your nemesis, come back to power as you were tied to a grave stone, bleeding and bruised while being mocked by death eaters who hid behind cowls and masks left a nasty imprint on the mind, even if you tried to suppress it like Harry did. This memory was the most fresh and vivid, just adding to the others he lived through on an almost nightly basis.

0o0o0

At 4pm when harry woke screaming, after seeing the green light hit Cedric again, tearing his dry, parched lips, he instantly covered his mouth.

It was too late though, Vernon Dursley had heard him. He knew he was going to regret not trying to put a silencing spell on the door. The only reason he didn't was because the ministry would know he had preformed under age magic and expel him.

''BOY!'' Uncled vernon screamed from down the hall. Harry was in panic mode now. He was not scared of the beatings, not scared of the names he would be called. He was worried about his water ration being lowered again. Due to the drought the Dursleys gave him the excuse that they had to ration what they had. A few days ago they had handed him a water bottle, enough to hold one litre. Every time they deemed he was being 'freakish' they would get a marker and add a line lower towards the bottom. He was already half way down.

He heard the bed his obese uncle slept on creak, sounding like it was almost at breaking point which it always did. Then his fat feet hit the floor and take great, angry strides towards Harry's room.

Harry sat up against the wall facing the door on his knobbly, half broken bed that used to be his whale of a cousins second bed, staring at the door. ''Leave me alone!'' Harry yelled at the door as it was being unlocked by the numerous locks, which Vernon had installed after he had escaped after his second year of Hogwarts. ''Thats it now boy! I am the bread winner of this house and I need my sleep to do that! You dare to jeopardise that by keeping me awake at god knows what hour with your childish screaming!?'' He was nearly at the last lock. Harry could tell by the noise it made. He used them to work out how much time he had to protect himself or come up with an escape plan. He wouldnt die because of dehydration, he was barely getting by as it is. He wouldnt die for a reason as stupid as that. He had a Godfather now. He had friends! 'even if they hardly write to me now anyway' Harry thought.

As the door was ripped open, his Uncle stood there, huge moustache bristling, covered in spittle from the shouting. His beady eyes scanning the room. He locked eyes with harry and went an even deeper shade of purple as he started to walk over to Harry who was now on his feet.

WHAM! His fat ham like hand collided with Harrys nose. Tears formed in Harrys eyes. Not from fear or pain but just because eyes seem to do that when the nose is struck. He had always wondered why it happened, it seemed ridiculous, you needed your eyes to see where you're going or what you're doing in a fight, not to be clouded by tears.

As the fist collided with his nose and his head flew back and stuck the wall behind him, he was dazed and his ears rung for a few seconds, drowning out the roars of his Uncles, but a few seconds later he could hear him again as Vernon held him by the throat, screaming at him. ''Now look here boy, I will have no more! You and your freakishness will not stay under my room as long as you keep us normal folk unrested and unsettled. Poor dudders needs his sleep for his boxing training and I have to go to work! You just take everything we do for you for granted! We clothe you and feed you and what do we get in return!? Screaming night terrors about some shit kid called Cer...''

The last thing Vernon saw before he flew backwards through the door, hitting the landing wall was the piercing green eyes harden, the dark black pupils seeming to spark. He was pressed against the wall, mouth and eyes wide open, looking at his nephew who was stood in the same spot, blood dripping down his face still, with one hand raised towards him, eyes full of hatred.

Pure magical force was pressing the bewildered muggle to the wall, the pressure was slowly pressing his ribcage, squashing him against the wall.

As quickly as it had happened it had stopped, the muggle fell to the ground, hacking and coughing for breath. Harry had never felt rage like before. All the years of Torment and pain and being unloved and beaten by this pathetic creature had finally overwhelmed him. His accidental magic had blown the muggle away from him like a banishing hex, the sheer power and length of the spell holding him against the wall. Harry felt as though he could do that again, and more.

The magic throbbed powerfully, he thought his heart was going to explode as it seemed to pump blood and magic throughout him. His fists clenched, his anger was not subverted. '' YOU DONT SAY HIS NAME! YOU DONT GET TO SAY HIS NAME! HE WAS NO SOME SHIT KID YOU FUCKING MUGGLE HE WAS A CHAMPION! YOU DO NOT FEED ME! YOU STARVE ME!' Harry screamed, all the pent up hatred burning as he screamed at the man ''ALL YOU SAY IS PISS, AND WIND! YOU DO NOT CARE FOR ME! YOU BEGRUDGE ME EVEN BEING HERE, AND WHAT HAVE I EVER DONE TO DESERVE THE PAIN YOU CAUSE ME? NOTHING!''

As he bellowed the last word another pulse of magic shook the very foundations of the house, he heard two others scream in the building. Pentunia was hiding in the master bedroom and Dudley had only just woken up, managing to sleep throughout the first of Harry's magical outburst.

The pulsing was getting stronger, he felt like he was going to explode from the pressure. Breathing heavier and heavier, while getting angrier with the muggle slumped on the floor infront of him, he was getting ready to kill the man for all he had done to him, all the pain and hurt he and others had bought upon him, just for being. He didnt understand the sudden upsurge of power, he just knew it would do his bidding. He was ready, he was going to end the life of his embodiment of his childhood torment, no matter the consequences.

0o0o0

(5 Minutes prior)

Albus Percival Wulfric Brain Dumbledore, Supreme mugwump of the international confederation of wizards, Chief warlock of the Wizengamot, leader of the light and Headmaster of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry looked up from the large stack of paperwork, charts and diagrams. He felt his every year of his age. He looked over to his faithful companion Fawkes, who lifted his head from his wing and crooned and sang a song to raise the spirits of his master, who he could feel was feeling the consequences of little sleep.

The song lifted the headmasters spirits. He gave a small smile, popped one of his favoured lemon drops in his mouth and went back to his letter to the minister, trying to make him see that Voldemort was once again, alive and powerful.

After the Incident with the Triwizard tournament, Fudge, through what was either blinding ignorance, or sheer stupidity, was telling himself and the rest of Britain via the daily prophet, Britains most subscribed wizarding tabloid, that Voldemort was not back. He would not accept that the Dark Lord was on the rise again. He thought the 'potter brat' as he called him was a liar, and Dumbledore stood with him to defame him, and take over as minister.

Of Course Dumbledore had met with him many times over the summer holidays to try to get him to see reason, but was always asked to leave shortly after arriving, by the ministers pompous assistant, Percy Weasley.

As he wrote the final line of the two foot scroll of parchment in his usual elegant loopy handwriting, his personal wards started to alarm.

These wards were linked to number 4 Privet drive, monitoring the level of active magic at the address. The wards were showing a gigantic flux of Magic, comparable only to his own. Albus could only think of one other magical power that large. Voldemort.

But Voldemort should be nowhere near strong enough to get to Harry yet the Headmaster thought. The revival ritual takes 12 months to let the user gain full magical power again.

Dumbledore stood up so fast his great wooden chair flew backwards and hit the floor.''FAWKES!'' The Headmaster shouted, but the pheonix was already in flight, swooping toward his human companion.

All Albus could hope for was that he wasnt too late and Tom Riddle hadnt got to harry.

In a flash of flames he was gone from his office.

0o0o

Dumbledore landed in a flash of flames on the front garden on number 4, wand out, ready for combat. But Voldemort and his legion of death eaters, destruction and mayhem he expected were nowhere to be seen, but the air was still thick with magic, he could feel its presence. He realised by the aura coming from the residents doing this. He locked on to Harrys magical signature using his own aura and saw he was in the upstairs bedroom, infront of another, with a weak to non existant aura. He felt Harrys magic flare again, almost forcing him to a knee with the weight of it. He had never felt anything like this before, nothing of this strength and magnitude. Then the ground shook and he heard the screams.

Turning on his heel he moved from the lawn to the bedroom with a subtle pop.

0o0o0

His hand was raised above his head. Harry was about to end the life of Dursley.

Something had snapped inside of him. The young boy who had grown to be a young wizard could bottle up the underlying rage and pain no more. He was going to release it upon those who had hurt him. He looked into the eyes of his Uncle, and hatred spiked once more. He brought down his hand, then his world went black.


End file.
